by J. R. Tate
He pulled his hand away and started down the street again. "Let's just get home."
The subway ride to the apartment was awkward. Mikey didn't say anything and any small conversation she tried to start was ignored. Eva had to chalk it up to him not feeling well. He was walking around with cracked ribs and a mild head injury. She was stupid to think that he would be energetic and talkative. But she couldn't take the silent treatment. She needed to know what he was thinking and what they were going to do next. She wanted to sit with the lawyer and find out how in the hell they were going to disprove the evidence against him.
She handed him his bag of belongings they had left with her at the hospital. Sitting down on the couch, he scrolled through his cell phone, grimacing as he put it up to his ear. Without skipping a beat, he threw it to the floor and let out a groan.
"What, Mikey?"
"Voicemail from Captain Rooker. He wants to meet with me as soon as possible."
Sitting down beside him, she wanted to hug him, but his body language showed that he wanted to be left alone. "Did he say what about?"
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I was arrested and charged for arson. I don't think it's gonna be good, whatever the hell it might be." Standing up, he began to pace in front of the TV. "Damn it, I feel like a rat in a maze."
Eva watched him for a few seconds, surprised at his sudden erratic behavior. "I know this is like putting gas on a fire, but calm down. Sit down and let's talk about it."
He threw his hand in the air. "What do you suggest we talk about? I'm screwed! It's gotten this far on what the police have. How is a jury going to see it?"
"If you're innocent, justice will be served somehow." She kept her voice low, hoping he'd calm down.
Turning to face her, he arched his eyebrow. His green eyes were bright as he stared down at her with so much frustration. "If I'm innocent?" His voice cracked. "If?" Sighing, he repeated, "If," only it wasn't a question the third time.
"That's not what I meant, Mikey."
"No? Well explain to me what you meant."
Eva stammered on her words. She truly did not mean to make it sound like it had. "It was just a general statement. The jury will be there with a clean slate."
Mikey interrupted her. "Just stop, Eva." He began to pace again and faced away from her, his head ducking again. "You don't believe me, do you? You think I did it."
Standing up, she grabbed his arm and made him face her. "I'm gonna be honest, Mikey."
He took a few steps back. "That's all I ask."
She thought long and hard before she put her thoughts into words. This was going to hurt her almost as bad as it would hurt him, but she had to let it be known. "I'm not sure what to think." A tear fell down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. "How did your badge get at the scene of one of the fires? I just..." Shaking her head, she looked him straight in the eye. "I love you more than you could ever know. I just don't know how it got to this." Her emotions got the best of her and tears flowed like torrential downpours.
They both stood in silence for what seemed like an hour. Mikey's cold stare sent a chill through her body. She couldn't read him like she normally could. Was he so angry because she had doubted him, or was he angry because it seemed that she believed the cops?
"Mikey, please say something."
"I'm... umm... I'm not sure what you want me to say." He backed up a few more steps, edging toward the kitchen. "You actually think I'm capable of setting those fires." He pointed his index finger at his chest. "My calling is to stop shit like that. How could I go out and do that? Go out and continue the same shit that killed Daryl. That killed my dad. That have killed so many men I've worked with over the years."
"I never said you did it. I just don't know how it escalated to the point of you getting arrested. You've come home late. You've had rough nights. You almost relapsed several times in just the past week. You've been through so much stuff. I just, I don't know." She wasn't sure what she was saying. The more she spoke, the worse it seemed to get. She couldn't come out and say she honestly thought he was capable of the crime, but really, any human being was, herself included. Everyone on the planet had day dreams and fantasies about doing something illegal. Could Mikey actually carry through and do it? Firefighters were some of the world's biggest pyromaniacs. Did her fiancé fall into that category?
Moving forward, he got close enough to her that if they wanted to, they could've kissed. His eyes were angry. How could she expect him to be anything but that?
"I guarantee everything that has happened within the past few days is no way to ensure that I don't go buy me a nice bottle of Woodford Reserve and drink it in one sitting." Raising his eyebrows, he laughed. "Damn, that sure would taste good right now. Nice and smooth. That burning sensation down to my stomach would be good therapy, yeah?"
"You're smarter than that, Mikey. You wouldn't ruin your sobriety so easily."
He placed his hands on her shoulders. "So easily? How do you come up with so easily? If I stand here and calculate it all, from being arrested, to having the shit beat out of me by two fat biker dicks, to being hospitalized, to having an arraignment. Oh, and what is the cherry on top of a fucking fantastic day is that my pregnant fiancé doesn't believe me because New York's finest found my badge at the scene of one of the arsons. She won't even consider the fact that a fellow brother on the department, a man that should be on my side but isn't, could've lifted my badge from my locker and planted it. He could've easily said I was seen at the crime and have fed the cops a whole bunch of bullshit that they'll take and run with because they're worried more about clearance rates than actually finding the real criminal." Nodding his head yes, his hands tightened against her. "Yeah, that's a really easy way to give up my damn sobriety."
Eva couldn't believe it. By his reaction, she still had to wonder. He had a valid argument, but something had changed. He had changed. "I think you need to leave." The words shot out of her mouth so quickly that it even caught her off guard.
Mikey moved his hands down her arms and finally let go. His gritted teeth and scowl faded, replaced by a genuine look of surprise. He looked like he wanted to say more, but each time he went to speak, he hesitated. His gaze moved to the floor and he started toward the bedroom. She hated seeing the sorrow he carried. How stupid would it seem if she asked him to stay? She could admit that she didn't mean it, that it was words spoken in the heat of anger. No, she wouldn't do that. Regardless of if he did it or not, she felt she needed some time alone to sort through it all.
"I think you're right, Eva. I'll go pack some clothes."
Fear settled in. He was so weak right now. The one thing he always turned to was alcohol and he never before had been in a situation as detrimental as this one. She had turned into his support and now she was tossing him to the curb. This was a mistake, but her pride held her back.
"I love you, Mikey. We just need to figure some things out. We don't need to do anything stupid." Kicking him out was one of the dumbest things she had ever done. Too late. There was no way to suck those words back into her mouth.
He cupped her cheek, looking like a little boy who had just got in trouble. "I'm innocent. I'll prove it to both you and the detectives." Leaning in, he gave her a quick peck on the lips. "I love you too, whether you believe it or not." With that last comment, he slipped out of the door, leaving Eva to wonder where he was headed and what he'd do next.
Letting out a whimper, she collapsed on the bed. This was her fault. She had told him to leave. Now all she could do was hope that the time spent apart would help and not hinder whatever this process would entail.
***
Michael didn't know where he was going. That seemed to be the theme of his life for the past month and he wasn't getting used to it. The evening air was cold, making his dull headache worse. His lungs stung as he breathed in and with each deep breath, his cracked ribs reminded him of the wonderful past twenty four hours he had gone through. He just want
ed to sit in a dark corner. What was he going to do? He had ideas, but his thoughts raced a mile a minute and he couldn't calm down long enough to think up a rational thought.
He was exhausted. It was getting late and the night life was starting to come out. Being without Eva around was already dangerous ground, but the bars were open and people were flocking to them in waves. Michael stopped at the same bar he had the other day. The front door stood wide open and a board out on the sidewalk displayed the night specials. The smells coming from inside were so tempting, jogging his memory to nights he drank down entire bottles of whiskey. It was a miracle he had any recollection of it, but the one thing that stood out was that when he was drinking, even if it was for just a few hours, his problems were far away. The one thing that kept him from actually crossing the threshold and going in was the other memories of mornings after, barely able to lift his head off the pillow, not to mention all of the people he had hurt in the process.
Hoisting his duffel bag on his shoulder, he forced himself to continue walking. With no game plan he felt vulnerable. He kept his head low and headed to the nearest subway station. He needed to rest. The last thing he wanted was his injuries getting worse. It was important to get healthy so he could devise up a decent plan to prove his innocence. Getting drunk or staying out late would not work in his favor.
The dull glow from the living room of the house made his pace slow down. His mother wasn't generally one to go to bed early, but he feared he'd wake her up. His pride got the best of him. What would he say? She already had so much to worry about. She knew about his situation, but with him and Eva split up, it was just adding onto the pile of shit his life seemed to be accumulating. He stopped in the yard. Where else did he have to stay? Most of the guys at the department probably viewed him just like Eva did. Even though he didn't do what he was accused of, he still felt like he had let them down.
Before he made it to the porch, the door swung open and the last person he expected to see came out. He had a cigarette between his lips and held up a lighter.
"Casey?" He had to do a double take to make sure it really was his little brother.
"Hey, Mikey. I'm glad to see you." He lit the cigarette and took a long drag off of it. "I got a plane ticket as soon as I heard what was going on. We've got some shit to talk about."
"What are you doing back in New York?" He was glad to see him, but at the same time, knew exactly why he was there.
Casey sat down on the porch swing and took another puff on the cancer stick. Patting his hand on the wood, he arched his eyebrow. "Set that bag down. Let's talk."
Michael hesitated, but threw his clothes on the bottom step and sat beside them. There wasn't enough room on the swing and he wanted to see his brother's face. "You didn't need to come up here for all of this."
"By what Ma has told me, you're gonna need all the help you can get. Judging by your face, you've already been through hell already. You get that when you were locked up?"
Michael ran his finger down his black eye. "Yeah. Concussion and a cracked rib. Just another thing to add to my long medical record." He watched the second hand smoke from Casey's cigarette linger. At least he was smoking that and not crack. "I don't want you getting involved. You've got enough to deal with."
"You're stupid to think I wouldn't be here for you, Mikey. After everything you've done for me, it's my turn to step up to the plate for you. Now tell me, who the hell is doing this and why would they want to frame you?"
Michael looked up at the sky. "It's Viper. Even in prison he's a major threat."
"It's time to put him away, once and for all, yeah?" Casey nodded toward him, the look in his eye ominous. His little brother had changed. He was no longer a scared boy jumping ship at the sign of any trouble. He meant what he said, and Michael felt confident in knowing that he was there to help. His big brother instincts kicked in and he wanted to keep him as far away as he could, but just like him, Casey was as stubborn as a mule.
"You think up any good ideas please tell me. Right now I'm coming up short. Could be sleep deprivation. You know as well as I do that spending the night in lockup and the hospital are no way to catch up on rest."
"You got that right. At least you were able to post bail." He extinguished the cigarette and flicked the butt out into the yard. "How about you get some good sleep tonight and we'll get serious about this in the morning? Judging by that bag you brought, I'm assuming Eva and you aren't on good terms?"
Michael cringed at his brother's observation. The thought of him and Eva separated made him sick to his stomach. The thought that she was second guessing him made him that much more determined to prove his innocence.
"We'll be okay. It's just a small hiccup. As for tomorrow, I've gotta run down to work and talk to my Captain, but other than that my schedule is wide open." He let out a quick laugh. "Time off is nice, but not like this."
Standing up, he was surprised to see his mom behind him. "Jeez Ma, you scared me. How long have you been standing there?"
She tightened her robe around her midsection, her brow creased when she took in the sight in front of her. Placing her hand on the side of his face, she shook her head and looked down. "Mikey, I can't believe this is happening." Her voice shook and a tear trickled down the bridge of her nose. "Did the cops beat you up?"
"No. It was two other guys in the cell with me. I'm okay. Don't worry about that."
Looking up, her green eyes were bloodshot. "Telling me not to worry is like telling you to quit being a firefighter. It won't happen."
"Unfortunately, it very well can happen. Is it okay if I stay here for a few days?" Before his mother could ask, he continued, "Eva and I are just needing some time apart. So much is happening all at once. We both need time to process it all."
He could tell she didn't believe him. Opening the screen door, she held it open as he grabbed his bag and went in, Casey following right behind him. It was weird for all three of them to be together under the same roof again.
"I'm glad to have my boys here, I just wish it was for something different than our circumstances," she said, walking to the kitchen. "Either of you need anything? There's a pantry full of snacks."
Michael walked to the stairs, eyeing the bedroom at the top. "I'm good, Ma. I'm gonna get some sleep."
"Hopefully things will look clearer for you in the morning." She forced a smile and it killed Michael to see her that way. It was the same demeanor she had when they were younger and going through all of the other crap that had been brought into their lives. He hated himself for putting her through something again, and this was out of his control.
Looking over at Casey, he said, "If you get up before me wake me. We can't waste any time."
"You got it, Mikey."
Walking up the stairs, he was so tired that he didn't even take the time to kick his jeans off. Burrowing under the covers, he tried to keep his mind quiet. The more he thought, the less sleep he'd get, and he didn't have time for that. His eyelids were heavy and his body relaxed. They'd think of something. They had to for the sake of the family and the department.
It wasn't just about Michael. So many people were affected. Viper would pay. Gregg would pay. Justice would prevail. It had to, even if it meant going through hell to get it.
Chapter Sixteen
Michael had called Captain Rooker first thing the next morning. Judging by the harsh voicemail he had from him, he knew that whatever his superior was needing, it wouldn't be good. Rather than him meeting at the station, Captain Rooker arranged for them to meet up downtown, away from the boys and most importantly, away from Gregg. He was thankful for that. With as angry as he felt, he knew one wrong glance toward him would shorten his already burning fuse.
Captain Rooker was sitting at a table outside of a coffee shop, a newspaper spread out in front of him. His body language stiffened when Michael walked up.
"McGinnis, you're a sight for sore eyes. Jesus, what the hell happened?"
Sitting down,
Michael noticed he had ordered both of them a coffee. He sipped on the liquid and it tasted so good. It had been a few days since he had gotten his caffeine fix and he realized how much he had taken small things like that for granted.
"Judging by you setting this little meeting up, I'm sure you know I was arrested and charged for those arsons."
Captain Rooker tossed the newspaper at him. "Check out the top headline in the local section. It'd be stupid of me not to know. The whole city of New York knows, including all of the brass who works at HQ."
Michael immediately looked away. It was an article about the progress of the case with a picture of him right in the middle of it. "Just remember that the newspaper isn't always right."
"Coming from a man who reads it religiously on a daily basis." He looked out onto the street as if he were trying to prolong whatever it was he needed to say. "McGinnis, listen... We're getting pressure left and right. A FDNY firefighter accused of something like this. As you know, the press is having a field day with it. We've had reporters practically busting down the garage door wanting to talk to us. The decision from headquarters is to suspend you."
Michael expected this. The only problem was actually hearing it. It hurt. It hurt worse than getting beat up by two men in a jail cell. This was his career. This was his life. What would his father think of him? What did his brothers think of him?
"For how long?"
"Until you go to court. Until we hear something. Listen, Michael, this wasn't my decision. It's just that if we leave you on the truck, we're gonna continue to hear it. This isn't blowing over like we thought it would."
Nodding, Michael finished off his coffee. "You don't have to explain yourself, Captain. With everything happening, I think it's best I stay away from certain people anyway."
"What do you mean?"
One piece of information the newspaper had left out was the fact that Gregg Walsh was the one who pointed him out to the police. It was a good thing. It gave Michael some room to work. It made Gregg think he got off easily, which meant the more relaxed he became, the more likely he'd make a mistake that could work in his favor.